


Two brothers, two paths

by Akemichan



Category: One Piece
Genre: Gen, Hostage Situation, Spoiler from the latest chapters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 07:00:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14827593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akemichan/pseuds/Akemichan
Summary: Two brothers. They chose two different path time ago, but the time has come for them to meet again, and for their path to clash.





	Two brothers, two paths

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, I was expecting something between Sabo and Stelly since we saw Stelly as King of Goa at the end of Dressrosa, but having them so close in the last chapter (I haven't read 906 yet, let's hope it doesn't disregard everything XD) was great so I had to write down something. Especially because I'm not sure we will see a real confrontation between these two, so... I just need it, okay?

Stelly has no idea how he ended up in that situation.

The last thing he remembers through a painful headache is the image of him entering his room at Mariejoa. A royal guard was escorting him.

And now he’s tied up tight to a soft and big armchair, facing a rich baldachin cover bed. Ropes secure his wrists and his ankles together, and other ropes are rolled up around his torso, his legs and the armchair. A piece of clothes is stuffed in his mouth and another one is wrapped around his head, efficiently silencing him.

He’s trapped. And humiliated.

And he forgets to specify he only wears underpants now: his magnificent uniform is disappeared, along with his crown.

It’s hard for Stelly deciding if he’s angry (who dared treat a king like him in that way?!) or scared (he’s totally at the mercy of whoever did that, with no chance of calling for help). But at the moment nobody’s in the room with him, so Stelly opts for being angry.

It doesn’t help the fact he notices it’s already dark outside, which means all the kings and queens should be at the inaugural dinner the night before the Reverie. And he’s missing one of the most important events in his life because someone attacked him.

His mind comes with scenario after scenario about how he will punish the culprit. They are all very creative, he’s very proud of his imagination when it comes to punishing people.

That mental exercise calms him a little, so he decides to give a shot and works hard to free himself. Screaming for help is out of question because the two pieces of clothes turn all his words into low muffles that can’t be heard outside; so he just struggles and wriggles, with the only result of tired himself and burning his soft and delicate skin where the ropes stroke.

He stops, panting. His chest aches as it moves rapidly against the binds, as he shuts his eyes to wipe the tears away.

The entire situation it’s absurd. They are in Mariejoa, for God’s sake! It should be impossible to kidnap a king there. Someone will pay for that and it won't be only the culprit, but also the guard that was so stupid to not notice the danger and everyone else who haven't kept attention at the security.

And where the hell is Sarie Nantokanette? Didn’t she notice his absence at the dinner? Shouldn’t everyone else? Why nobody has come to save him yet?

Rumors lures his attention and, with a more careful listening, Stelly understands they are steps. Looks like the other kings and queens finished their dinner and they are returning to their room. His wife should be with them. He’s safe!

But more time passes, more the steps wear down, with no one coming for him. He becomes frantic, as his yells turn into muffle sounds, barely audible. _Someone, please someone hear me!_ And hope blossoms in his chest as the door of his room is unlocked.

Tears streams down his checks, relieved. He turns his head to spot his savior, but his position and the enormous armchair block his vision. He murmurs something, a way to tell the person to hurry up and free him, but then he hears the sound of the door being locked again.

With a person inside the room this time.

_Oh, God, no. Please do not tell me it’s the kidnapper. Please do not tell me it’s the kidnapper. Please do-_

Steps get near him and Stelly freezes. A man appears at the side of the armchair: he doesn’t deserve a look to Stelly, while he takes off all the clothes and throws them randomly on the ground alongside with the crown.

Stelly’s crown. And these are his clothes, the ones the best tailor of the East Blue made especially for him and for the Reverie, with the more expensive fabric he could find. And that man was throwing them around as they were rags.

Stelly protests through the gag and only at that moment the man notices his presence. His gaze upon him makes Stelly trembling for a second, but he swallows and tries to make a brave face.

He’s the king and that man is a vulgar criminal. Maybe he will understand how much he screwed up before dragging the farce for too long. If the man frees him now, maybe Stelly can even spare his life, just takes a limb or two. So he wiggles a little, as much as he can do without feeling pain, to show his good intentions.

But the man, after looking at him for a minute, turns around the armchair and tightens the ropes, taking Stelly’s breath away as his body is mash against the seatback. Then he proceeds to do the same thing with the gag, and he succeeds, not matter how much Stelly grumbles and moves his head.

“Okay, this should last until tomorrow,” the man speaks. “I need to sleep, so please keep quiet.”

And after that, the man lays down the bed, on the silk sheet and the soft pillow. A second later, he snores, already asleep.

Stelly watches the scene with wide eyes.

Tomorrow??? He’s going to let him trussed up like that until tomorrow??? That man is the worst. He hit him, tied him up, stole his clothes and probably went to the dinner party in his place and now is going to sleep in a bed that doesn’t belong to him while Stelly is forced in a pretty uncomfortable position as a prisoner.

And no, the armchair isn’t soft enough for his regal body.

Screws all he thought before about being merciful: he will have that man prove on his skin the same treatment he’s reserving to Stelly, before being impaled. Or burned alive. Or both.

With anger, he muffles and struggled, but the ropes are tighter than before and the fatigue and the pain wears him down. Despite the bind and the gag that dries his mouth, he ends up napping a little, in a not very relaxing sleep full of dreams about executions.

He wakes up in the morning, with the dim light coming from the window and the sound of someone knocking at the door.

“Stelly, honey, are you awake? I’m already angry at you for ignoring me yesterday at the dinner, are you going to let me alone at breakfast too?”

Sarie Nantokanette! Maybe this time will be his chance. And it wasn’t him last night, dammit! What the hell did that man do disguised as him? Well, as soon as Stelly is free, he will make him confess everything.

But the knocking wakes up the man, who sighs annoyed. “What a pain in the ass,” he murmurs.

He stands up, much to Stelly’s distress. What if he kidnaps Sarie Nantokanette too? His chances of escaping are already too few to be wasted, and being his wife makes her his best shot. He has to warn her so she can call for help. So he muffles, hoping the sound is enough near to the door to be heard by her and that she will be smart enough to understand something was off.

But he stops as he hears a voice that sounds really close to his one. That disgusting man was posing as him. Again!

“Sorry, honey, I’m not feeling good this morning. I apologize, but I’ll skip breakfast.”

“Are you ill? Now of all days? You’ll miss the Reverie!” Sarie Nantokanette’s voice is disbelief.

“I won’t miss the Reverie for any reasons. Do not worry: I’ll just rest a little, but I will be there. Please go.”

_No. No, don’t go. Stay! Save me!_

“Fine. But I’ll hold you responsible if something happens to me.”

“We’re in Mariejoa, I’m pretty sure you’ll be fine.”

_God, please!_

“Yes, I know, but that horrible fishmen…” she murmurs, and then sighs. “See you later, honey? After all the good words I received from the other sovereign about you yesterday, I’d like to show you around.”

_What good words? That wasn’t him! No way a vile criminal was good enough to impress someone._

“You will, I promise. See you later.”

And with that, Sarie Nentokanette leaves, and Stelly is again alone with a criminal who shows no respect for him whatsoever.

“That was close,” the man says, with relief in his voice. “I’m hungry.” He moves behind Stelly, reaching the other side of the room, where a Den Den Mushi is. “Hello? This is king Stelly. I’d like to have breakfast in my room, is that possible? Perfect. Well, bring as much as you can, okay? Just leave the tray outside the door, thanks!”

Great, now he’s ordering food. And using his bathroom! Stelly hears the sound of the flowing water and remembers he hasn’t washed since yesterday. He shivers: he will start to smell like an ordinary person and that was unacceptable.

Angry at everyone, he doesn’t even try to lure the attention of the waiter that knocks the door announcing the breakfast.

“Thanks!” the man shouts, but he waits until the waiter leaves before opening the door and bringing the tray inside.

He places it below the window, in a spot Stelly can see it. But even without that, the torture is unbelievable. Stelly's last meal was the lunch of the day before, which mean more than twelve hours without any food. An eternity! He looks in awe at the man as he grabs one of the pieces of cake and stuffs it in his mouth.

And then his stomach growls. Stelly blushes and grits his teeth in the cloth he has in his mouth, turning his gaze to the other side.

“Want some?”

With caution, Stelly looks at the man: a bright smile is on his face (oh, it will be a pleasure to cancel it!) as he offers him a small sandwich. The nerve! Offering food to the person the food belongs in the first place. Stelly’s eyes brighten with hatred, but then his stomach growls again and he finds himself nodding.

He shivers when the man moves close his hand to the face, but lets him rub the cheek with his thumb to lower the gag to the chin. Stelly takes a breath and spits out the piece of clothes inside his mouth, then coughs. His jaws hurt for having bite that thing for so long, but he doesn’t have time to recover because the man shoves the sandwich inside.

It’s hard to chew it entirely and swallow with the dried throat, but he manages somehow. It was good, not the best he ever ate, but for now he can be happy with it. He looks at the man and orders, “give me something to drink.”

The man lifts an eyebrow, but smirks as he’s somewhat amused. He reaches the tray and comes back with an open bottle of water. Stelly finishes half of it before being satisfied. Only when the man returns the bottle where he took it, Stelly realizes his mouth was free. He can yell. That time someone should hear it! He takes a deep breath but before a sound exits from his mouth, the man has already clamp his hand on Stelly’s face, shutting him down.

“I was nice to you and looks how you thanked me.”

_Nice? Nice??? You kept me like that all night and you dare to call yourselves nice? You damn piece of-_

“Should I break your jaws? This will make my life easy.”

And as he says that, his grasp on Stelly’s face hardened and the hand becomes black and hard as iron. No matter how much Stelly struggles, that grip is too strong. He shuts his eyes, ready for the crack of his bones, but instead he feels hot and humid around his legs and a small chuckle.

“Oh, well,” the man comments, pointing down with his head at the yellow pool forming below Stelly’s feet, as the urine streams down his legs. He returns to the tray and brings some other food. “Another sandwich?”

Stelly’s grateful the man hasn’t commented further what happened and at the same time angry for being grateful; nevertheless, he nods and opens his aching mouth to swallow another piece of bread.

The man sits down at the border of the bed, eating and looking at Stelly. “That’s the expression,” he says suddenly. “I’ve seen it before. Poor people around the world does it when they finally manage to eat. Well, not this kind of food, but I’m not a big fan of it myself,” he adds, chewing a bite of cake.

“Oh, so you’re one of them,” Stelly comments. Now it makes sense.

“One of them?” The man blinks, a little wary.

“People that are angry at us nobles because they weren’t born this way. I understand the jealousy, I really do, but it’s not my fault.”

The man chuckles. “Believe me, I don’t envy you a little bit.”

“Still you took my place, my clothes, my bed, even my food.” The man was about to reply, but Stelly shuts him. He has had enough. “But let me tell you something: I earned it. I worked hard to be where I am now, so your poor people out there should just work harder instead of blaming us for everything!”

The man looks at him unimpressed. “You earned it, _King_ Stelly?” His voice’s cold. “You mean, by killing the previous king and prince? That’s the meaning?”

“I didn’t kill them. It was an accident.”

“Sure. An accident.” The man smirks and makes an eloquent gesture. “Oh. Or maybe you mean you didn’t kill them by yourselves but paid someone to do it? Or was all father’s doing, so he can benefit from your position? He used to say we would have been happy as royal family members and that would have made him happy too.”

Stelly blinks. What the hell he’s talking about… How can he… And then he looks at him. Looking for real that time, looking at his golden hair and his blue eyes and at the scar that covers half of his face.

“No… No, you’re dead,” he murmurs. “You died back then!”

“That was very convenient for me,” Sabo comments. He stands up and Stelly follows him, snoring as he sees him drinking juice directly from the bottle, with orange drops falling over his chin and neck.

“Do you realize how much you made father suffer?” he shouts. “He spent years to justify why his firstborn dared to navigate in front of a Celestial Dragon! He ruined his reputation because of you!”

“Oh, really?”

Stelly doesn’t catch the sarcasm and continue, “yes! He came and saved you before the fire and you repaid him with a disaster. We almost lost everything and I had to do the impossible to show I was good enough, that I wasn’t like you.”

“Well, I’m not sorry,” Sabo replies. “I never asked father anything. He should have known his path wasn’t mine. He should have let me go. He had you after all.”

“Yeah. He has me.” Stelly ignores the fact Sabo is eating jam directly from the jar with a spoon and turns his gaze to his crown, that still lies on the ground in the middle of the messy clothes. “And now you’re back. You can admit you’re missing this life. You can admit you’re ready to steal it for me.”

Sabo snores. “You take it all wrong. It isn’t personal. Posing as a king of a place I know well is just easier for my cover, that’s all. That dinner was like hell for me.”

“I don’t believe you, you fucking hypocrite.”

“Well, I don’t care.” Sabo shrugs and turns his back at Stelly, rummaging again in the tray in search of some other food.

“I will kill you, I swear. And it won’t be fast and I will enjoy every bit of it.”

“That’s fine, but before making any treat you should learn to not piss yourself in your pants.”

Sabo still has his back at him, but Stelly can image the smirk on his face. Asshole. He grits his teeth with fury, because he doesn’t have a rebuttal to it. In that condition, as infuriating as it is, he is helpless. Even screaming can result in a more problematic situation: Sabo is too strong for him, as much as it’s painful to admit.

So Stelly sits down quiet, while Sabo finishes his meal and then returns in the bathroom.

Once upon a time, Stelly heard the story of the “Prodigal Son”. A father had two sons: one of them was obedient and responsible, the other one was an asshole who disregarded orders and left the house with half of the heritage only to squander it. The first son, the good one, never saw his effort recognized. But the second son, the bad one, returned home welcoming with all the honor, as he never did anything wrong.

Stelly hates that story.

Since he was adopted in the Outlook family, he heard about their son. The son who wasn’t able to pass the easier exams, who wasn’t interesting in studying, who picked fights with people he should revere instead. The stupid son. The one father had to drag back home while he preferred live in the garbage. Stelly was better than him in any way and even father said it multiple time.

You’re so good, Stelly, what a good son. You’re so smart, Stelly, you’ll be a great man. We are so proud of having you in your family. Of course Stelly you’re better than Sabo, you always were. You always will better than him.

But… You’re not him.

No matter what, Sabo is the real son, the firstborn. Father will complain and complain, but he’ll take him back every time. Stelly has known for a long time that no matter his personal success, a small part of his father would have preferred to see Sabo in his place.

And now Sabo’s back.

That’s so unfair.

“You okay?”

Sabo returned from the bathroom and now he’s looking at Stelly with concern.

“Are you really asking me if I’m okay?” Stelly spits, glaring at him.

“Yeah, maybe not,” Sabo agrees. “But we’re almost done. Reverie will start in an hour now.”

“So, what’s your evil plan? Going there posing again as the king of Goa hoping they’ll accept you after me?”

“God, no.” Sabo looks horrified. “The dinner was enough for me. You can go. If you manage to free yourself in time, I mean.”

“I hate you so much.”

“Same feeling. I hate you and the people like you, but lucky you all won’t last long.”

Stelly swallows. “What do you mean?”

At first, Sabo doesn’t answer. He finishes dressing up with the royal guard disguise, revealing to Stelly how he managed to sneak inside the first time. Then he works on the ropes, loosening them a little. It isn’t enough for Stelly to break free, but he isn’t as much as halt as before. Sabo returns in front of him with a knife, that spears in the armchair just next to one of Stelly’s legs.

“We chose our path a long time ago, but now they’re clashing together and only one of us will carry on,” Sabo states. “I lied before: this is very personal. I hate being born noble with all my soul and I’ll do anything in my power to erase them from this world.”

“You… How…”

Stelly doesn’t know what to say: he simply can’t accept someone who hates being noble. How can it be? Being noble is like the best thing ever! You’re above most of the people around, you’re better than them. You’re rich. You get the best food, the best clothes, the best house.

There isn’t anything better than being a noble, except being a Celestial Dragon.

Sabo grips his face and places back the gag on his mouth.

“I don’t think I can’t change your mind, and I don’t care, so I’ll just destroy you alongside all the others out there,” Sabo finishes. “But if you manage to free yourselves in time, maybe you can warn everyone that the Revolutionary Army is here to declare war at the Celestial Dragon.”

The Revolu- oh, sure. It makes sense. What a better place for such an idiot like Sabo than that group of scoundrel so crazy they think they can destroy something as ancient as the world.

Sabo was long gone when Stelly realizes the magnitude of the reveal that was told him. If he can warn every one of the imminent danger, if he can stop the Revolutionary Army, he will be seen as a hero.

It is his great chance to become a Celestial Dragon! And he has to thank Sabo and his idiocy for it.

Well, he can almost forget about how the trouble Sabo put him in. Almost. Having him as a slave will probably be the first thing he will ask as a price for his service at the World Government.

And with all those thoughts of victory and success, Stelly starts to work at his freedom.

 


End file.
